


in the stillness (of remembering)

by chriseva_angst



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chriseva_angst/pseuds/chriseva_angst
Summary: In the wake of an unexpected tragedy, Chris and Eva find their way back to each other. But circumstances predict that things may never be the same.





	in the stillness (of remembering)

**Author's Note:**

> this is an idea for an angsty fic that i had late one night a few weeks back. this takes place five years after the finale of skam.

It’s dark and cold outside, and still eerily quiet when the phone rings. Eva almost confuses it for the alarm programmed for the early morning, but it's pitch black beyond her window, and there's no trace of the chirping birds that wake alongside her with the ding of the usual morning call. 

She lets it ring, too lazy to move from her comfortable position, but the phone rings twice more in quick succession. It takes her by surprise, and Eva wonders who exactly could be calling at two in the morning. The number that pops up is one she doesn't recognize, but she knows it will only keep ringing if she doesn't pick up.

Eva sighs, pressing the button to answer the call. She doesn't bother to turn on the bedside lamp, wanting to just get over with the conversation and return to her fleeting sleep.  “Hello?” She practically yawns, struggling to sit up.

“Is this Eva Kviig Mohn?” The voice on the other end of the line is cold, unfeeling, and too automatic. Immediately it sends her stomach into an anxious frenzy.

“Yes, this is she.” She manages to wake herself up a bit, and sits straighter against her headboard, more alert.

There's a pause that makes her mouth dry, “This is Politimester Olsen from the Kirke station in Torvveien, we are calling you, as you are listed as an emergency contact.”

Eva tries to dissipate the panic seeping into her at an alarming rate. She tries to convince herself immediately that there is nothing to worry about, and that there's no need to jump to conclusions involving dire situation in her head.

It isn't the most normal occurrence, but Eva has had to bail out Vilde  _ twice _ for citations over public indecency during their university years. And though they're all more mature, or so she hopes, and established now, she hopes that this won’t be any different.

The seriousness of the other person indicates otherwise. He sighs, and she can tell this won't lead to her being summoned to pay anyone's bail.

“If you could please make it to the Torvveien precinct, we will explain in person, but your friend or relative has been involved in a car accident.”

No other words need to be said before she springs to action. Shaken by the revelation, Eva hops around her room, frenzied. She doesn't bother to turn on the light now that she's moving automatically, reaching for some decent clothes and her coat. In her anxious state she manages to grab her keys and purse, and call for a cab.

At twenty-three years old Eva is unashamed to admit that she does not know how to drive. In fact, she is entirely cool with it, and is content with her primary form of transportation, public transport. But situations like these, and the ungodly time of night, suggest that perhaps the metro is not the best way to go. By the time she's locked up and tried to steel herself somewhat, a cab has pulled up. She musters the composure long enough to mutter to the driver her destination.

In the quiet of the backseat she runs a thousand and one scenarios about what could be happening, who it could be. Her thoughts immediately run to her mother, who she hasn't seen in weeks, but she's not entirely sure that her mother is even  _ in  _ the country.

Her next thought is Isak, who like her, always expressed a reluctance to operating motor vehicles, but who had gotten his license regardless of it. Not that he's any good. But then she realizes his emergency contact would be Even.

By the time she reaches the station and pays the cab fare, she's ruled out her mother, Isak, Vilde, and Jonas.

The station feels eerily cold the minute she walks in, and she chucks it up to the thermostat and the usual Oslo weather seeping in through cracks in the plaster, but her gut knows better. The officer positioned at the front desk window gives her a sympathetic smile when she signs in, and asks her to take a seat while she fetches the officer who called her.

Eva doesn't bother getting comfortable in the blue plastic chairs in the waiting area, and before she has a chance to even settle into the seat, Politimester Olsen is there to greet her and is leading her down a narrow corridor to what she assumes is his office.

He motions to one of the seats in front of the desk, and instantly the intuition in her brain is setting off alarms. The precinct is entirely quiet, save for the noise of a fax machine, and the drip of a leaky faucet in the bathroom one door down. The other officers that usually occupy the workspace seem to have cleared out long ago, and this seems to be a night out of the ordinary.

The older man takes a seat behind his desk, shuffling some papers before he states directly at her. Again, there's the sympathetic look that sends shivers down Eva’s spine, and her brain is seconds away from an overreaction. She braces herself for the bad news.

“You were listed as the emergency contact for Noora Sætre Magnusson.” The officer states in a matter-of-fact tone and it knocks all air out Eva’s lungs.

She lets the breath she’d been holding, and her tear ducts act before her mouth do, because her eyes water and blur her vision. “Yes, she's my best friend, what’s wrong?” Her voice shakes.

The way the man’s face falls says everything and Eva’s eyes flood with tears, a dam bursting as she's overcome with emotion, anxiety, and fear. Politimester Olsen pushes a box of tissues strategically placed on the side of his desk toward her, and his wrinkled face that has seen so much worse than this is a contradiction of empathetic and desensitized to her outburst.

When she finally manages to compose herself somewhat, the little she  _ can  _ compose, he gets down to the information.

“Your friend, Noora and her husband, William Magnusson were in a car accident this morning at approximately 1:00 in the morning, on their way North, from Sandefjord.”

Eva nods, urging him to continue.

“The car skid on black ice and was set off course. They slid off the road and crashed. Your friend Noora suffered fractures to her C2, C3, and C4 spine, and she shattered her lower cranium. She was leaking cerebrospinal fluid and the coroner ruled it a death on impact.”

Eva gasps, trying to make sense of the words he’s just spurting out at her, all while trying to pinch herself to wake up from this sick nightmare. She can just imagine Noora and her beautiful laugh, the same laugh she’d heard just six hours earlier during a telephone call.

“She was in the passenger seat. The driver, Mr. Magnusson was alive when first responders arrived on the scene, but he suffered external contusions to the head and thorax, and succumbed to internal bleeding en route to the hospital.” Eva feels like she’s been beaten with a bat, and her throat is so dry she can’t think of any words to say that will express the emotions she's feeling.

But her concerns are shifted when she remembers the little laughter, the sound like bells to her ears, of her beautiful goddaughter, Amalie. She had been the first to hear the news of the pregnancy. She had been the first to hold her, after Noora, because William had passed out after cutting the umbilical cord. She had been the one who Noora, who seemed so secular and liberal, had surprised with news of the christening. Eva felt her heart beating loudly to the point she considered she was going into cardiac arrest.

“Amalie…” she choked out, unable to piece coherent thoughts into sentences, “The baby, their daughter… is she…”

The officer sat up straighter looking at her with a solemn look and she's preparing for the worst, but he surprises her.

“She was the only one to survive the crash. She was sitting on the right side in a rear-facing child seat, which lessened the impact. She was taken to the hospital by the first responders.”

Eva is flooded with what little relief she can find, but it is suddenly replaced by dread at the realization that once that baby is cleared by the hospital she won't have parents to go home to. Her heart crushes at the thought.

“Can I go visit her?” Eva is driven by a sudden instinct to protect Amalie, who by everything but blood, was her niece.

“That is actually why we called you here,” Politimester Olsen clears his throat, and fumbles with a stack of papers neatly set on his desk. “You were listed as the primary legal guardian for Amalie Magnusson.”

She blinks, because in the span of an hour she's gone from cool aunt to legal guardian and she's lost her best friend, and practically sister. The universe is sinister, alright. The words fail her.

“I know it is a lot to take in, but there will be a social worker waiting with her at the hospital, to discuss how to proceed with custody.”

Eva spaces out, thinking of all the responsibility this all entails, and the weight in her chest only grows with every passing moment as she realizes that while she sits here, Noora’s parents, who Noora had last seen at her wedding two years ago, must have no idea. Neither should William’s absent father who  _ hadn’t  _ made it to the wedding at all, and who lives in an entirely different country.

It baffles her to think that while all her friends are sleeping cosily in their beds waiting for the alarm to ring them into their mundane routines, she is the only recipient of this knowledge, and legally responsible for a child who has no grasp of object permanence and who has even less of an idea of what's going on.

Another sob gets lodged in her throat.

She picks up on snippets of the one sided conversation the officer seems to be having with her, though she's in no capacity to listen.

“...Legal guardian… appointed custody unless it is contested by a family member… paperwork… the social worker will explain… a lawyer will break down the estate.”

Eva nods, pretending that she has absorbed it all. She sits silent and numb for a few minutes, while she attempts to collect herself and sort out her emotions in the most realistic way possible given the situation.

The officer doesn't push her, and he sits there awkwardly for a few moments, staring at the blank look in her eyes until she finally seems to gain some color back on her face.

“Okay, I’m ready I need to go be with Amalie.” A maternal instinct she was unaware she even had decides to kick in, and Eva hopes it will be useful in guiding her in what to do during these trying times.

Olsen nods, motioning for her to follow as he briskly walks down the same corridor to the front desk. He mutters something to the officer in charge of the front desk, and the woman seems to nod yes, to which he seems relieved.

It’s still entirely dark out, and colder if possible, when they step into the parking lot. Eva clutches tightly to her coat, bringing the lapels closer to her chest. She tries to not slip on any ice as she follows the officer to one of the unit cars parked out front.

The drive to the hospital is entirely quiet and Eva is thankful for the silence, as it gives her a chance to sort out her thoughts.

It becomes evident to her that she will need to make funeral arrangements, though once she is in a better headspace in the morning and calls their group of friends, she figures they can make those decisions together. They are gonna need each other in the coming days as they grieve this loss. Eva adds a reminder on her phone to call into work tomorrow, as going in is entirely out of the question now.

She wonders how long she will have to take.  _ How long is it appropriate to grieve?  _ Right now she feels despair and loss and helplessness and she wonders if this void that is now present in her aching heart will ever subside.

They pull up to the hospital in a shorter time than she would have liked, but then again the hour doesn't give for much traffic. She feels selfish for wishing she had more time to herself so she can make sense of all she is thinking and feeling. Selfish because Noora and William now have no time  _ at all. _

Politimester Olsen speaks to the woman at the front desk of the Emergency ward, and she types on her computer before pointing them down a corridor.

It appears the situation warranted a private room for Amalie, who is in a tiny room in a crib built to accommodate older babies. She's sleeping soundly, and it breaks Eva’s heart that she has no idea the tragedy that has befallen her young life.

A social worker is sitting in the corner of the room, and she puts on an empathetic smile before greeting Eva.

She holds her hand out, taking Eva’s shaky fingers into her firm grasp. “Ms. Oda Sørensen, I am sorry for your loss.”

Eva nods, and figures the lady will understand her curtness.

Within minutes Officer Olsen is excusing himself. He leaves Eva a business card and asks her to call regarding any questions pertinent to the case. She assumes all further business will be handled with a lawyer and the woman standing before her.

Ms. Sørensen, who insisted to be called Oda, as if the situation could be made comfortable at all, motions her to a seat. They sit in silence and Eva wonders why they're not moving to discuss anything, and Oda seems to read her mind.

“We’re just waiting for the other legal guardian.” Oda stares down at her wristwatch, as if time had any effect on this very liminal space. “Was just here a few moments ago…”

It doesn't take long for Eva to realize who she is talking about, because even before she could begin to decipher the pieces in her mind he saunters into the room with a weary face that tells of utter heartbreak and despair; much like her own.

It’s been two years since she saw him, the dutiful  _ Best Man _ at her best friend’s wedding. He’d walked her down the aisle, delivered a beautiful and touching speech, and left early and sober. He had reported for duty the day right after, and he'd missed Amalie’s christening for the same reason.

They don’t run in the same circles in anymore, and if she thought he looked different in a tuxedo two years ago, he looks even more foreign to her now, in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His face is more serious, and his hair longer. He holds a tray of coffee in his hands, but he immediately discards it on the small table on the side of the room.

If there is one thing that is familiar about him, it’s his touch. Though his shoulders are more broad now, the planes of his back hardened by training in combat, his arms are all too familiar for Eva as he envelops her in a hug that seems to convey a mutual sense of loss, sadness,  _ understanding. _

And though she willed herself to not cry, it feels safe in Christoffer Schistad’s arms, and so cry she does.

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely inspired by life as we know know it, the american film starring katherine heigl and josh duhamel. it's pretty cheesy, but cute, if you want a little context to the inspiration. 
> 
> this will be a multi-part ficlet.


End file.
